I feel ugly when I have to ask

The other day I had a text typed out that just said, “Want to hang out this week?”

That was it.

I wasn’t asking him to define the relationship. I wasn’t confessing my love. I wasn’t asking him to move in with me. I was asking if he wanted to hang out.

I stared at it anyway.

Because if I sent the text, I’d be the one asking.

And for some reason, asking makes me feel ugly.

Ugly.

Why ugly?

Whenever I really like someone, things usually start off well. We laugh together. We flirt. We spend time together. I’ll leave feeling good about whatever this is, and then a few days go by and I start getting in my own head.

I start wondering if I should text them or if I should wait.

I vacillate between two completely different stories.

One is, If they wanted to, they would.

If they wanted to see me, they’d text me. They’d make the plans. Let them come to you. If it’s not a fuck yes, I don’t want it.

The other one is, RV, if you don’t ask for what you want, you don’t get it.

Both of those stories feel true depending on the day.

When I’m with someone, everything feels easy. We laugh. We have fun. Nothing about the time we spend together makes me think they’re pretending.

Then we go home, a few days pass, and that tape starts replaying

You’re always the one asking.

Maybe they’re just saying yes because you asked. They were being polite.

Maybe they like you enough to sleep with you, but not enough to consider you.

Don’t be the desperate one.

It’s infuriating how quickly my brain can turn three quiet days into a complete explanation for why I’m fundamentally undesirable.

It’s so dramatic, but that’s honestly what it feels like.

Every invitation feels too much, and every text is asking for something I haven’t earned.

Comparing what’s happening vs the story I’m telling myself, none of this really holds up. He’s engaged when we’re together. We're affectionate. We laugh. They tell me they had a good time.

Then somehow those quiet days outweigh all of that.

I’ve been trying to figure out where that story comes from.

I was a fat kid.

I’m still fat.

I was a queer kid.

I’m still queer.

There are still days when I don’t feel sexy, and I don’t think those feelings disappear just because I’m older. Growing up, I learned pretty early that desirability wasn’t something I expected to have. So I got really good at becoming someone people would like for other reasons.

I learned to be funny. Talented. Charming.

I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to become an exception by being exceptional, hoping that maybe if I was enough of all those other things, people would make an exception for the queer fat kid.

Looking back, I think that same story shows up every time I hesitate before sending a text.

Because somewhere in my head, asking feels like admitting I want them more.

Like the person who reaches first automatically has less value.

It’s a complete lie.

I know it’s a lie.

I also know how convincing it feels.

If that voice in my head would just shut up for a second, what would I actually do?

I’d text them.

I’d text them because I want to see them.

That’s it.

When I wanted to learn Mandarin, I didn’t wait for Mandarin to find me.

When I wanted to try stand-up, I signed up.

When I get excited about an idea, I spend hours chasing it.

I’ve never been someone who waits for life to happen to me.

If I’m interested in something, I go toward it.

So why have I been trying so hard to become a different person the second romance gets involved?

Maybe asking doesn’t make me ugly.

Maybe it just makes me the same person I’ve always been.

Someone who’s curious. Direct. Someone who reaches for the people and things that excite them.

That doesn’t mean I want to be in relationships where I’m always carrying the conversation or making every plan. Reciprocity still matters.

But that’s a different question.

One is about the kind of relationship I want.

The other is about whether I think I’m allowed to want someone in the first place.

I’ve spent a long time confusing those two things.

Apparently I’m going to keep texting first and inviting often.

Because I’d rather act like myself than spend another afternoon trying to prove I’m someone who doesn’t care.